


Last Chance

by TheBookWorm01



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27085243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBookWorm01/pseuds/TheBookWorm01
Summary: After years of work fighting against Fen'harel and his agents, the final battle between former Inquisitor Lavellan and the man she loves is only one night away.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan/Solas
Comments: 9
Kudos: 62





	Last Chance

Ellana dropped her staff to the ground as soon as she cleared the flaps of her tent. It hit the ground with a harsh crack that made her wince but she couldn’t be bothered to see if the ironbark had snapped off at one of the delicate tips or if the heart of the wood had cracked open. There were a million other staves in the camp below and million other mages who would be glad to hand theirs to the maker’s blessed herald of Andraste. She couldn’t even be angry at the title anymore. What had she done besides weakly protest in the days before she became inquisitor to persuade anyone she was nothing less than a demigod appointed by their Maker in their hour of need? Now she was as much a god to them as their faith would let them believe. About to face off against her people’s heathen gods and save them all from their mindless destruction. What did it matter to them that it was only one god, one man, who wanted nothing more than to save his people? What did it matter to them that he had walked in her shoes millennia ago and their world was the price of his success? What did it matter that they were doomed whether she was victorious or not? Certainly none cared for her heart. Oh, the stories they’d weaved to hide the truth. She was good at that, it seemed, chipping away little pieces of herself to make her seem more palatable to the world. 

Her finger caught on a buckle that held her prosthetics to her pauldron, and she felt her thumb slice open on the metal. She cursed, then muttered a small healing spell to seal her skin. If Vivienne hadn’t spent a small fortune commissioning the largely decorative armor, she’d have melted the damn thing down by now. It was by no means useless, were she fighting any normal enemy. It could very well save her life tomorrow amongst the people she’d once claimed as her own. But against him? Ellana dropped onto the stool outside her bedchamber. Vivienne has insisted on the separate bedchamber for the tent, complete with an actual bed. A demigod, after all, does not entertain guests on a bedroll. When she’d asked what guests she’d be entertaining that called for a bed, Vivienne reminded her that was not nearly as important as the impression that she was. Propaganda claiming the Dread Wolf no longer held any sway over her was always circulating. It seemed her furniture, too, would now play its part.

Once she was certain she would not fall, she let the weight of the world and her armor settle on her and slumped forward. She pulled the pauldron off her right shoulder, remembering it might be easier to do so while the required hand was still attached, and let the metal drop to the floor. It landed with a dull thunk and rocked forward. She caught the edge with her foot, forcing it to lay still. It reminded her of the inside of a skull. Something she unfortunately knew the sight of too well. She dragged her hands over her face, eventually pressing her palms against her eyes until colors danced against her lids. Creators she was tired. If there was any good to what would come tomorrow, it would be that it would be over. Whatever that meant for the world, for her, it would be done. She could rest, either in this world or the next. Maybe he would join her. She scoffed, a bittersweet smile lifting her lips. He was never the kind to stay put when something could be done to improve the world, and even something so deterring as death was unlikely to stop him. It was something she’d always loved about him. She just wished it hadn’t led them here.

A light flashed between her fingers and she sighed. The mirror had been helpful, invaluable sometimes, when someone from Briala’s network had needed to bring her an urgent message. That fact made her no more keen to discover who had walked into her bedroom when all she wanted to do was sleep until the next age. Taking a breath, she stood and tried to still her shaking hand as she successfully undid the top buckle. As she walked through the flap and looked up, the only sound was that of the metal frame falling against her arm.

Standing in front of her was Solas. And it  _ was  _ Solas. There was no trace of the gold-armored Fen’Harel, He Who Hunts Alone and Bringer of Nightmares. There was no echo of the dragon-wolf who stalked their armies and allies and she could see none of the crackling red power that had enveloped him last she caught a glimpse of him. No, what she saw the worn robes of a wandering hermit and the tired face of a man who had lived too many years alone. 

Time passed, what felt like millennia, and he still stood before her. The Eluvian he had entered through, the one her friends and allies had been furious about until deciding it was a tool they were willing to take advantage of, was quietly humming behind him. He could step through if he wished. Retreat back to his camp and tell his generals of the door behind enemy lines. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on the prosthetic half-hanging from her arm. 

“May I?” Ellana’s eyes snapped to his at the words, his voice only just loud enough for her to hear. At the edges of her vision she saw him gesture to the prosthetic and she was nodding her consent before she could make a smarter decision. He approached cautiously, his steps measured and filled with a stiffness she had not seen since their early days in the Inquisition. He was nervous. Of what she would do or what he would, she couldn’t be certain, but she suspected it was both as his hand came to cradle the end of her arm. He undid the remaining buckle, focusing intently on the motions of pulling the leather tab back until the metal peg was released from its hole, then sliding it free from the bars. Ellana studied his face. He had new scars, new freckles. A few new wrinkles as well. The crow’s feet she had traced in her mind when he smiled were mere scratches compared to the valleys in his brow and beside his lips. His eyes were not the unnatural red she feared, merely bloodshot. She suspected he had been drinking more tea of late than he would ever admit. Her fingers traced the deep purple bags under his eyes, and she felt his breathing still against her chest. How long had it been since they stood so close to each other? Crestwood? The knowledge that he might have told her all this and spared them both the pain made her heart tighten. Her hand found the back of his neck before she could feel his eyes tighten. He always closed his eyes before he turned away from her. She gently pulled his head to hers as the arm fell to the floor. 

A shudder ran through his body and she pressed her forehead to his, breathing in his scent. Beneath the tang of stolen power, magic, and blood, there was still the dust and mold and staleness of old parchment and the warmth and spice of herbs and soil. Her fingers curled against his skull and her eyes closed tight. She didn’t want to watch him turn away either. If she could just hold him here, if she could just have one more moment before they both remembered what their duty demanded of them… Ellana tilted her chin up, pressing her lips to his before she could second guess herself. Then Solas was pulling her to him, his arm circling around her waist and his hand cradling her face. She slid her hand down to grasp his tunic as he bent her backwards, incapable as always of doing things half-heartedly.

Then again, neither was she. She pulled herself further onto the thigh he had slipped between her own, and heat pooled in her belly at the sudden jolt of pleasure. He seemed to stutter, his whole body stilling for a moment longer than he intended, leaving his lips parted a breath away from her own. And then she licked his lip. It was the barest of touches, the very tip of her tongue swiping across his already swollen bottom lip. But it was enough. Solas’s hand slid from her waist to her ass, grasping as much of her flesh as he could in his fingers. Then he pulled. He swallowed her moan with his mouth as the movement forced her clit to grind against his thigh. The hand cradling her face bound itself in her hair and tilted her head back, and her mouth fell open as he peppered kisses along her jaw and down her neck only to settle over her racing pulse. She ground down again, this time feeling an unmistakable harness against her leg that sent a shock of electricity down her spine.

The idea to reach down and take him in hand, to bring them both to completion without ever moving from this spot like two young lovers too desperate to touch each other to even bother to remove their clothes, took hold in her mind. It had been so long since she’d felt anything other than exhaustion and anxiety. So long since her body had given her anything but aches and lingering pain and the desire to simply lay down and be done. But she felt so very alive now, with Solas hard against her thigh and nipping at the mark he’d left on her neck and here. Creators he was _here_. And she wouldn’t lose that for the sake of a fantasy. Not before she had to. 

Reluctantly, she slipped from his grasp, finding her legs weaker than she’d expected. Then found them weaker still when Solas kissed her again, his tongue dancing across her lips until they parted to mirror his movements. Creators, she had forgotten how good at this he was. If he’d let them, she’d gladly spend the rest of their lives kissing him. But they didn’t have that kind of time. She trailed her hand from his chest down his arm and tangled her fingers with his. She took a step back, then again and again, and pulled him with her. He followed, chasing her lips, until her legs hit the side of the heavy wood frame of her bed. He breathed in sharply, and she kissed him again before he could turn his head toward the still-glowing Eluvian. Still holding onto him, Ellana lowered herself onto the furs. For a moment, her arm was the only bridge in the gap between them both. Then he was on his knees before her. 

She risked releasing him to grasp her own tunic and pull it over her head. It landed somewhere near their feet and was soon joined by her breast band. This wasn’t the first time she’d been bare before him, but it had always been casual. A shared bath or patching a wound. There was never any heat to it, at least on her part. By the time she’d come to realize she’d wanted more with him, he’d ended things. Fitting their first time would likely be their last. She pushed the pricking in her eyes away in favor of the warmth of Solas’s hands on her waist. His eyes traced her every curve, and she loosed a trembling breath as his fingers grazed the underside of her breasts. Her skin pebbled beneath his hands as they moved higher, palming the soft flesh. Then his mouth was on her skin, tongue reaching out to flick at her nipple, and she couldn’t help the small gasp that slipped from her lips. Her back arched against him and she pressed her hand into the bed behind her to support herself, falling to her elbow when Solas lavished his attention onto her other breast. Cool air chilled her skin, following the path of his head as he pressed open-mouthed kisses down and down her stomach until he reached her waistband. His hands followed, lingering on scars old and new. Then he kissed her from hip to hip, lips barely more than a whisper, and she sighed his name like a prayer. 

His fingers froze, and her heart followed suit. If she had broken whatever spell had kept him touching her, kept him here, kept him with her, her heart might never beat again. She did not think she could survive adding one more moment to her ever-growing pile of failures and regrets. And losing this, losing him, a second before she had to would send the whole thing crumbling down. She tried to meet his eyes, but they were obscured by his brows, pulled tight over her abdomen. It was an effort to keep her breathing even as she tried to read the lines of tension in his shoulders.

He murmured something against her stomach and pressed a long, lingering kiss to the strip of skin just above her waistband. His hands twitched at her sides, then the rough pads of his fingers were gliding across her hips and stomach until they rested at the fastening of her breeches. Her heart leapt to her throat and her mouth was suddenly dry. When he lifted his head, she could only imagine what he saw. Mouth wide and eyes wider and face bright red, if she was as flush as she felt. She recognized the guilt that flashed in his eyes. He knew her as well as she knew him, after all, and it was not the first time he’d seen her terrified he’d leave. But the guilt passed, replaced with a determination that was mirrored in how he fingered the buttons that held her breeches closed. 

“May I?” It took a moment for her to register the words, thick and hoarse and oh so gentle, over the roar in her ears, then a moment more to understand what he was asking permission for. The thought of that and all it promised sent heat pooling in her core. And suddenly she was very aware of his body between her legs and how very, very close he was to the dampness that had soaked through her smalls. She licked her lips to wet them and swallowed to clear the tightness in her throat. 

“Yes,” she breathed. He watched her face for a moment more, searching for any sign she hadn’t meant it. He found none. Then a smile teased at his lips and he dipped his head once more.

“Ma nuvenin.” With a swift movement, he unfastened the buttons and slipped his fingers under the hems of her breeches and smalls. Ellana lifted her hips as he eased the fabric down, peeling them from her skin with a near-unbearable slowness, until they were discarded on the floor. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold ran through her body as he gazed up at her from the floor. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he cradled her foot, bringing it up to his lips to press a gentle kiss to the inside of her ankle. He continued upward, leaving kiss after kiss on her calf until he reached her knee. His lips lingered on the skin there a moment longer than the rest, then he lifted her leg to rest on his shoulder. Her heart sped up as slowly made his way up the inside of her thigh. Her skin tingled where his lips met her leg, and she felt herself dripping onto the sheets as he grew closer to the apex of her thighs. His arm moved to wrap around her leg, his fingers lazily stroking the outside of her hip as he pulled it closer to him. He seemed content to lavish his attention on the soft skin just below the crease of her thigh, licking and sucking and kissing until her mind was focused only on his lips and the marks they were sure to leave. Then his thumb brushed against her clit. Her breath caught in her throat and the muscles in her arm shook. Again, his calloused thumb slid against the bundle of nerves, then continued downward, grazing over her slick folds and parting them. A whimper passed her lips and finally Solas turned his attention to the neglected flesh between her thighs. Her free leg drew up, independent of any command, as Solas’s lips circled her clit, and her arm slipped out from beneath her as his tongue flicked across it. A pleasant tightness began to build in her abdomen, and she found herself lifting her hips to Solas’s mouth to increase the pressure. But the hand that was so lightly caressing her was suddenly splayed across her hips, gently pressing her back into the furs.

He murmured something too quietly for her to hear, but all thoughts of what it might have been vanished as his tongue darted inside her, then flattened to drag up the length of her folds. She hooked her legs together behind his neck to draw him closer and he obliged, burying himself in the heat of her core. The ease of his pace was maddening. Every moan and gasp he pulled from her earned her only the slightest increase in pressure or depth, and only for a moment. And when she felt herself inch every closer to that precipice he would relent, his hands keeping her still and she attempted to writhe her way back onto his lips as he pressed them to her thighs and the soft flesh just beside her entrance and every inch of skin he could reach that was not the place she wanted him most. It was as though she was his last meal and he intended to savor every bite. And, she realized with a sobering thought, that wasn’t far from the truth. 

She released her grip on the furs beneath her and reached for Solas, intending to bring his face back to hers to… she didn’t know what, exactly, she wanted to do. Other than see his eyes and remind herself of the way their sea-storm grey turned to a soft violet and how they lit up when he spoke of the things he loved. Of stories and spirits from deep in the Fade, of history and magic. Of her. Before she lost the chance to do so again. But the hand caressing her hip caught her before she found his face. He entwined his fingers with hers. The strength with which he held her hand shocked her. Even as he continued to worship her with lazy strokes of his tongue, he gripped her hand like it was a lifeline. Then she was holding him just as tightly. He slid two fingers inside her, curling them upward in a motion that drew a deep moan from her chest, and he set to sucking at her clit once more. Once again a delicious pressure grew in her core, built up and up and up with every thrust and curl of his fingers and careful flick of his tongue. Then he swiped his finger over her clit, and she was undone. She pulled at his hand, her back arching off the bed as her every muscle convulsed and she made a noise that sounded like both a sob and his name. 

When the peak of her climax had passed and she was no longer writhing around Solas’s head, he pulled away from her. Ellana peeled open her eyes and fought the pleasure-fed exhaustion that bade her lay still to lift her head. He remained blessedly between her legs and the sight of him, lips and chin drenched with her as he licked the slick from his fingers, was enough to make the next pulse that ran through her core cause her head to spin. She laid there for a few more moments as her heartbeat slowed, the warmth of his fingers in hers the only confirmation that Solas remained. 

“Ar lath ma,” she whispered, almost more to herself and the air than him. That was all who had been there to hear the words for so long, after all. But he was there to hear. For a moment he did nothing, said nothing. Then he turned his head and kissed her thigh. His lips moved against her thigh, his words so soft, so quiet, she felt more than heard them. 

_ Ar lath ma. _

Ellana pulled at his hand, using just enough force for it to be considered a suggestion instead of a request. The mattress dipped beside her and his mouth was on hers once again. The taste of her was still on his tongue, the tang of it sending her blood racing once more. Solas’s hand slipped under her waist and then her legs were sliding against the furs until she was laid fully on the bed. He half-hovered over her, untangling his fingers from hers to trace the lines of her face. For a moment, she forgot to breathe as his lips departed from hers, then began to place ghost-light kisses on her cheek, her eyes, and along her jaw. She pressed her hand to his chest, feeling his heart hammer against it, then slid it down and down until she was gripping the frayed hem of his tunic. He did not freeze as she expected him to when she slid her hand beneath the fabric, pausing only to nip and suck at her earlobe. 

Slowly, her hand traveled up his torso, dragging his tunic up with it, until he leaned away from her and tugged it up and over his head, throwing it off the side of the bed along with the jawbone necklace. His muscles beneath her fingers as she lightly dragged her nails down his chest and stomach. There were new ridges and dips along the way, scars she didn’t recognize, empty space where skin and sinew should have been. But she did not linger, forcing her thoughts of battles and blood and pain away to focus on how his hips shifted against hers as she skimmed the waistband of his breeches. With more confidence than she felt, she tugged at the laces holding them closed. She hooked her fingers beneath the fabric and over to his hip, then pushed downward. Solas mirrored her movements, shifting his weight to his other arm to help her slide his breeches off his hips and down his legs until he was kicking them off. Before they could join the rest of their discarded clothes on the ground, she trailed her fingers up and over the smooth plain of his thigh. And then she was holding the length of him, hard and heavy and warm. 

His breath shook in her ear as she wrapped her fingers around his length, and the quiet sound turned into a hoarse groan as she tightened her grip just enough to add pressure to the slide of her hand. She swiped her thumb over his head and was rewarded with a sudden jerk of his hips. He shifted then, moving his body to line up with hers and settling between her legs, and captured her lips in his once again. He ran his hand up into her hair and wound his fingers in it. The slight pull sent a thrill through her and she ran her hand down his cock, twisting her wrist as she did, to return the favor. He groaned against her lips and slid his tongue forward to dance against her own. 

She hooked a leg over Solas’s calf but stopped short of the desire to drag it up along his thigh and pull him towards her. It had been years since she’d done anything like this. Years before the inquisition had even been a thought in the Divine’s mind, even. Before Anehn had died and split her heart in two. Before she’d managed to stitch it back together only to realize how much simpler it was to grieve the dead than the living. Before she realized she could not escape her heart being a casualty in this war 

Sudden pressure on her chin brought her eyes to Solas’s, and she realized she had frozen. His face was full of tension. His brows were drawn together, and his eyes squinted at hers with a seriousness that wrinkled the lovely freckles that decorated his cheekbones. There were a few new ones, now. And ones that had been little more than pale specks had darkened and settled into his skin. Once, when he had fallen asleep in her bed, she’d tasked herself with counting them all. When she’d fallen asleep on his chest, halfway through the ones dotting his shoulders, she’d told herself she would have plenty of time to continue cataloguing them the next night. She couldn’t quite convince herself of the same now. 

“Ellana.” She snapped back into focus at the sound of her name, soft and quiet and broken. His finger swept across her bottom lip in a movement so small she wasn’t sure he knew he’d done it. “We can stop if you wish.” She looked into his eyes, the eyes that had always held so much guilt and sadness and hesitation, the remnants of which never truly disappeared even when they were happiest. She lifted her hand to his cheek, cradling it in her palm and smoothing her thumb across his cheekbone. She could spend forever looking into those eyes. In another world, she would have the time and she could see him unburdened by the lives he carried. But this was the world they had. So long as it allowed her hold to him a moment longer, she would thank whatever god was listening for it.

“I want you.” Her voice caught on the last word, her throat tightening with the weight of it. And the weight of the words she couldn’t say. That she’d take whatever scraps he gave her, as she always had. That whatever he gave would be more than she’d ever dreamed of having, even if it would never be enough. His eyelashes fluttered against her fingertip and he turned his face into her palm, pressing a kiss to the heart of it. His breath was warm against her hand as his lips moved against it. Ir abelas. She closed her eyes tight and tried to ignore the sudden dampness on her lashes, and her fingers, as her jaw clenched. She swallowed, gathering the resolve not to simply beg him to stay when she opened her eyes to find him slipping from her grasp to leave once again. But he did not pull away. Instead, he kissed her gently, his lips barely brushing hers as though he was afraid to bruise them. His hand skimmed down her side, fingers trailing over her neck and shoulder, and over the angry scar from her amputation. They lingered there a moment before sliding to the side of her breast, then down over her waist to rest on her hip. His fingers curled around it in a feather-light grip. 

Ellana wrapped her arm around the back of his head, fingers curling over the top of his scalp, and pulled it closer to hers. The slightest part of her lips was all the encouragement he needed to slip his tongue between them to caress her own. She let herself be caught up in the intoxicating heat of it a moment more before dragging her foot upwards, urging his hips forward. He shifted forward between her legs and pressed his forehead to hers as he looked to the space between their bodies. His gaze lifted back to hers, and she nodded. And then he was guiding himself into her. She kept her eyes locked on his as he filled her, taking his time to ensure she had time to adjust to every inch. When he was fully sheathed inside her, he slid his arm beneath her, pulling her chest tight against his, and kissed her so hard it hurt. All she could do was tighten her grip on him and kiss him back with just as much desperation. 

Ever so slowly, he began to move. It did not take them long to find a rhythm. For the gentle rolling of their hips to feel as natural as breathing. For the small gasps and moans he made against her lips to become the only sounds she wished to hear. For the way he wrapped her in his arms to feel like the only home she’d ever known. She wrapped her other leg around his waist, pulling him as close to her as she could. She clenched her walls around him and was rewarded with a stutter of his hips and a lovely groan that sent heat spreading through her every muscle. 

“Vhenan.” She’d barely heard him utter it through the fog of pleasure, but she did hear it. And it made her heart ache so much it stole her breath. The last time he’d said it, the anchor had been killing her and he’d taken her arm in order to save her life. And to remove a threat. Yet she’d still declared that she’d save him, that their love would survive whatever the future would bring. She buried her face in his neck and sobbed a curse equal parts pain and pleasure. She didn’t want to think about that. Didn’t want to think of their shattered hearts. Didn’t want to think of all the terrible things that led them here and would follow once they inevitably left the confines of this bed. She raked her fingernails across his scalp and took some small satisfaction from the hiss that slipped between Solas’s teeth. His next thrust was a little sharper, a little deeper, and this time her moan was all pleasure. 

Still, it couldn’t quite chase away the hurt and fear that had lodged itself like a spike of ice beneath her breastbone. So she clung to him, pulling herself to him as tightly as she could until the only way she could be closer was if she crawled beneath his skin. Solas held her just as tightly, his fingers digging into her back in a way she was sure would leave bruises. She wanted them. She wanted every mark on her skin that would prove to her the next morning that this was more than some illusion of the Fade. She kissed along his jaw and down his neck, then sucked at his pulse. She would leave her own marks, to remind him of the same. 

It wasn’t long until she found herself nearing her peak once more, and the harshness of Solas’s breathing and the growing raggedness of his movements told her he was close as well. She circled her hips once, then again, and his thrust hit just the right spot inside her to send her tumbling over the edge once again. She called out his name, called him vhenan and ma lath, all the things he was to her spilling off her tongue as her mind emptied of everything but her pleasure and him. Then he stuttered and stilled, and spilled into her as his own climax found him. 

Soft furs caressed her skin as he lowered her back onto the bed, then the weight of him was half-covering her as he collapsed beside her. The world was quiet, then. Suddenly empty of all sounds but their breathing, which was slowly finding its way back to normal. Her skin prickled as the heat left her body, leaving the cool night air to dry the sweat from her skin. Then she felt a tingle on her skin that had nothing to do with the chill of the tent. Magic, his magic, traveled the length of her body, drying her skin and cleaning the slick from between her legs. A trick she might have appreciated had it not been followed by the weight of him lifting off her and the sudden seizing of her whole body as she realized he was getting up. Her hand shot out to grab his arm before he could sit up, before he could plant his feet on the ground and grab his clothes and leave.

“Wait,” she begged. She couldn’t bring herself to care how desperate, how heartbroken she sounded. What did posturing matter between the two of them? He knew the mess he’d made of her. There wasn’t anything to hide. And she had to try. 

“Vhenan.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

“Just until I am asleep.” She let the unspoken words hang in the air. Just let me have this. Let us have this one moment to pretend. Neither moved. One of them was going to have to give in, to let the other have their way. It would be kinder to them both, she imagined, to let him leave now. To be honest about how this changed nothing about their duties. She didn’t care. She wanted the beautiful lie. After a moment more, he finally moved. And it was not towards the Eluvian. He was wrapping his arms around her. Then, somehow, they were curled together beneath the layers of furs. He kissed the top of her head, then tucked it beneath his chin. She ignored the way his hands shook as his fingers gently stroked her back, just as she ignored how his heart pounded under her hand as she laid it on his chest. Just as they both ignored how the pillow beneath their heads grew steadily colder and damper. 

Her limbs grew heavy, her earlier exhaustion catching up with her, and she felt his magic again. This time beckoning her towards unconsciousness. It was a spell he’d used many times when she had struggled to sleep when the anchor pained her or she worried that the Fade would latch onto her worst fears and memories. It would guide her to a dreamless sleep. If she let it. Fighting the spell would not keep her awake, though, as her every breath grew deeper and her mind emptier. So she told him she loved him again, the elven slipping from her tongue as though it were the only thing it was meant to say, and let the magic take over. 

When she awoke, the bed was cold. The room had a crispness to it, as if a breeze had swept through and cleared the room of the night’s activities, and the acrid tang of magic still hung in the air. She buried her face in her pillow and tried to ignore the ache she felt at the scent of fresh linens. When a messenger inevitably came to fetch her for the meeting she was surely missing, they would not uncomfortably divert their gaze from her or question whether they wanted to risk walking in on the unconscious herald and her lover. The thought of some poor servant walking in on the Herald of Andraste tangled with the Dread Wolf gave her some amount of amusement. Which was quickly cut short by the reminder that, yes, that was who they were. And that last night had not happened because one of them had conceded to the other. 

Something coarse pressed against her breast, the ends of it cutting into her skin. She rolled over, tipping her head back and pressing her eyes shut to keep tears from spilling over. The leather around her neck was warm and smelled of parchment and earth and rubbed raw against the bruises on her neck. Her fist curled around the jawbone, the teeth digging into her fingers, and she sucked in a steadying breath. 

Solas had once told her to harden her heart to a cutting edge and put the pain to good use. It seemed she had no other choice now. 


End file.
